


The One With The Sex Slave

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, After a fuck tonne of snark, Crack, Enthusiastic Consent, I'm so sorry, M/M, No consent issues, Please don't look at me I'm not sure what's wrong with me, slave!hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:02:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo does NOT want a sex slave. No matter what Hux thinks.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omega_Hux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omega_Hux/gifts).



Kylo stares. “What the fuck is this?”

“ _This_ is your body servant,” says the man. He’s tall and svelte, but has that air about him that says he’ll knock your teeth out and charge you good money to give them back for replacing. His eyes are steely-blue, his hair a russet slick, and he’s wearing next to nothing.

Like seriously.

He has to be cold. He’s wearing a belt around his hips with a loincloth front and centre (and presumably over the ass, too) that falls down to mid-thigh and exposes the edge of his thighs. There’s a thick, metal collar around his neck and matching cuffs and anklets, all of which are then connected with fine chains to the belt loop near his navel.

Which is probably supposed to be alluring and sexy. 

It is not alluring, and it is not sexy. The man stands with one hip jutted as if he’s been told he’s supposed to, and he looks ready to strangle Kylo with his chains, instead of do a sexy dance.

“I don’t need one.”

“You have one.”

“Take it back.”

“You can’t take me back. I’m a gift.” The man lifts his head. “Am I not good enough?”

“I don’t  _want_ a body slave.”

“You’re saying I’m not good enough?” Rage flushes his pale face almost to match his hair. “You’re insulting my family’s gift?”

“Don’t you think they’re insulting _me_ by landing me with you?”

The man looks like he’s trying to explode Kylo’s head with the inside of his own. He does not have the Force, so it isn’t going to work. He gives him props for trying so damn hard. “I’m a wonderful slave.”

“If you were, you’d do what I said, and fuck off.”

“That’s not how this _works_.”

“It’s how I want it to work.” 

“Well. Fine.” He sits down, on the nearest chair. 

“…what are you doing?”

“If you want to send me back – to whatever they’re going to do to me – go ahead. I’ll just enjoy my last few moments.”

Which… Kylo sighs. “ _What will happen if I send you back_?” he asks, because it’s what the man wants him to.

“Slaves who aren’t good enough… don’t last.”

Kylo isn’t sure if that’s true, or if the man thinks it is, or not. But the idea of it makes his blood chill a little. “And?”

“And nothing. I’m spoiled goods now, anyway, and even if you send me back they’ll assume you used me, and what good is a used slave?”

“…experienced?”

The man glowers up at him.

“Fine. But you’re staying in your own room and leaving me the fuck alone.”

He hates these backwater worlds. Why do they always insist on sending ridiculous tributes? Just silicone and spice tithes would be enough, but they all have to try their hand at some local custom or another. Kylo has no need of a sex toy, but he’s not about to see him destitute just because his family – or elders, or betters – hurled him at his feet. 

***

Shortly after, a small section of chests is delivered, and Kylo peers inside. There’s silks and veils and soft harem pants and jewellery and nothing at all practical. Not one real shirt, not one really utilitarian scrap of underwear, and no shoes or socks. 

It’s atrocious and he’s having none of it.

“What the fuck is _this_?” he demands, at the man who is now lying back on the spare bed, flicking through something giggle-worthy on his tablet.

“What the fuck is _what_? And don’t you know how to ask questions without swearing?”

Kylo kicks the footlocker. “This. Where are your real clothes?”

“Body slaves don’t wear real clothes,” the man says, with a roll of his eyes.

“You have a name, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“What?”

“ _What is it_?”

“You didn’t ask that.”

“I **just** —fine.” Kylo takes a deep breath. “What is your name?”

“Hux.”

“Hux?”

“Are you deaf?” 

“Hux, where are your clothes?”

“You’re looking at them.”

“…you mean to tell me you don’t have anything _normal_?”

“I _did_ have, before my father got pissed off with me and decided to turn me into an example for everyone, by giving me to a brute who doesn’t know how to ask a question without an expletive.”

“…what?”

“Nothing. When do we eat?”

“When I get you some real clothes.”

“I’m happy with those.”

“You’re wearing real clothes.”

***

Hux deigns to wear harem pants and remove the chains, but not the collar and cuffs. Kylo isn’t sure why he’s so adamant about wearing them, when he obviously isn’t into this role, just trying to make the best of a bad lot. He also wears one of Kylo’s sleep shirts, which is big and baggy on him, and looks ridiculous under the collar. 

He sits across from Kylo, and his eyes wander over the food.

“Would you eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Look. If you’re my slave, you need to be healthy enough to look out for me. So do me a favour and eat?”

Hux’s eyes drift, and Kylo realises…

“You’re not supposed to?”

He shrugs.

“Hux. Will you look at me?”

He does, but he doesn’t do so happily. For all he’s keen to follow ‘rules’ and dress ‘right’, he doesn’t seem too keen on actually obeying orders when they come from Kylo. It’s like something deeper is etched inside, and he can’t disobey.

“If you’re staying here, I want you to eat, drink, and rest normally.”

“I’m supposed to—”

“Are you supposed to do what I want, or what you want?”

Hux’s lips curl. “There’s protocol.”

“Fuck protocol. Behind that door, who knows if you’re eating with me? Or wearing real clothes?”

“And when I’m _not_?”

“…then… if it’s important enough to you, you can act as you think you should. But when you’re here…”

“Then I’m not your slave.”

“I told you I didn’t want one.”

Hurt passes over his face, and Kylo can’t work out _why_. He’s offering the man his liberty behind closed doors, and he’s _hurt_? 

“Maybe you should have sent me back. I’m clearly not good enough.”

“Hux, that isn’t what I—for the love of… would you just eat and drink? I wasn’t expecting some whore on my doorstep, and I don’t want you to st—”

Hux slaps him, open-palmed, and hisses in irritation. “Don’t you call me that.”

“Why? Isn’t that what you’re for?”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing!”

“Maybe it is! Maybe I don’t want someone who only wants me because they _have_ to!”

“Maybe it’s the only way anyone would want you!”  

“Fine. Don’t talk to me. Take your plate to your room and just… don’t talk to me. Ever.” 

Hux does, angry as he sways his way out of the room. Kylo is mostly disgusted.

***

Hux keeps out of his sight for the next few days, visible only in his food tray coming and going. He takes care to escape Kylo’s notice, but he can feel the burning resentment.

The man also hasn’t left. And so hasn’t spoken to another living soul, not face to face, anyway. 

Kylo feels bad about it, so he knocks on his door.

There’s no answer, so he waits. Knocks again. Waits.

Then leaves him to it.

***

The next day, he knocks again. 

“What?” comes the voice from inside.

“If you’re stuck with me – and I assume you are, and I can’t pass you on – then we might as well find some way to be civil to one another.”

More silence.

“Don’t know if you can be civil to a whore.”

“…look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t really ask for you to be dropped on my doorstep, and you aren’t really working with me on this.”

More silence, then the sound of fabric moving. The door opens a crack to reveal Hux clad in _only_ his stolen sleepshirt, peering blearily up at him. “You could sell me, I guess. If they knew I was damaged goods.”

“But you’re _not_.”

“But I _am_. You think I like knowing it? I’m soiled, spoiled, and—“

Kylo puts a finger on his lips. “You’re annoying, argumentative, and anything but obedient.”

“You’re doing this wrong.”

“Oh?”

“You do realise what you’re supposed to be doing, don’t you? Not just pretending I matter with food, drinks, clothes…” 

“Who said I was pretending?”

“I’m a _whore_ , **Master**. Did you forget?”

“And giving you clothes and food is somehow bad?”

“You should just fuck me and get it over with.”

“…and that’s _so_ sexy.” Kylo rolls his eyes. “I really want someone who is forced to agree.”

“Fuck off,” Hux says, and slams the door back in his face.

Kylo leaves the quarters.

***

It’s late that evening when the door opens again. 

Hux is wearing very little. There’s a shadow-under-the-door smear of glimmering black under his eyes, with a paler smudge on the lids. His lips are painted bright, swollen red. Around his waist is a simple belt, tied at one hip, pulled low by the fabric swathes. They’re small, but enough to cover his manhood. Not enough to leave anything to the imagination, though, because when he sways he sees _everything_ outlined. 

Hux sighs into the room, and makes a bee-line for Kylo’s lap.

For a moment, he can’t think to resist. He’s caught up in the spectacle of his body on display. He doesn’t realise until there’s a heavy presence rolling in his lap that he needs to stop this, and he doesn’t know where to put his hands.

“Hux… no.”

“Hux yes.”

“Hux, _no_. I’m… I don’t… this isn’t right!”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” he asks, looking hurt.

“…that’s beside the point. You can’t just _jump onto someone’s lap_.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do,” Hux snaps back. “I jump on, you get interested, we do sex, then you stop being crabby.”

Kylo picks him up by the hips. Or, he tries to. Hux suddenly grabs hold of him like his life depends on it, an angry cat not ready to be unseated. “I’m not crabby.”

“Can’t get it up?”

“What?” Kylo continues to pull Hux up, and Hux’s hands go for his pants. “Stop that!”

“I’m checking it works.”

“You can’t go around grabbing a guy’s junk!”

“I’m a sex slave, what the fuck do you think I’m supposed to… augh!”

Kylo uses the Force to float him, leaving him dangling and cursing. He’s frustrated and furious, and Kylo keeps him levitating. “Why is it so important we have sex? What the hell did they tell you?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. You don’t have to have sex with me. You can have food, and a room, and holos, and whatever the fuck else you want. You can _walk out of here_ if you want. I’ll get you the documents.”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“Why are you doing all that if you don’t want me?”

“…because I still have some moral decency in me, despite what everyone thinks, and because you don’t deserve to think you need to get me off to be safe?”

Hux sighs. “People don’t just want nice things for people.”

“What if I want the nice things so you stop trying to jump on my dick?”

A shrug, and he slumps. “Will you put me down?”

“Will you stop trying to get me to fuck you?”

“…for tonight?”

Well. It’s a start. Kylo lets him down.

***

“Why did they give you to me?” Kylo asks, one day, when they’re quietly not bothering one another.

“I wasn’t wanted.”

“…by…?”

“My father.”

Kylo startles, and he sees Hux’s expression change.

“Not like _that_. Kylo, I’m from Arkanis, not… Tatooine. He didn’t want to – he didn’t want a son, so… he gave me away.”

“Oh.”

“Could be worse,” Hux shrugs. 

“Not really.”

“Could be given to someone utterly disgusting, instead of only slightly disgusting.”

Kylo snorts. “Fine. And… how long did you know?”

“Few years. Got sent through all the training. Lied for most of it. Passed anyway. I don’t think they ever expected to find someone they hated enough to give me to… sorry about that.”

“And you… just… went along with it?”

“Didn’t have a choice.” He shrugs. “Thought at least you looked half pretty.”

“Only half?”

“You scowl too much.”

Kylo takes a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t want to have you because you think you have to.”

“What if I think I _want_ to?”

“…that would be different.”

“Is it so hard to think I might want to fuck before I die?”

Awkwardly, he shuffles. “I – uh – if you wanted, I could get you someone to—“

“You’re obtuse. You know that? You’re really pretty, but you’re dumb as my half-baked farts, Kylo.”

“Is that how you seduce everyone you want to fuck?”

“So far, yes.”

“Try harder, next time,” Kylo suggests, and saunters out of the room.

***

He shouldn’t. Except. Why not? Hux seems to want to, and Kylo can’t deny he’s pretty as fuck. And annoying, in a way that makes his skin burn. It’s neither of their faults that he’s been given to him, and it’s neither of their faults that everyone probably thinks the man’s been in his bed every night since he received the ‘gift’ from Arkanis. 

He tried to send him away, or set him free. Hux had refused every last attempt, although Kylo can’t properly work out why.

Still.

He’s put the offer out there.

So when he comes back home, he’s surprised (pleasantly so) to see Hux isn’t wearing a coathanger and a smile. He’s wearing some skin-tight leggings admittedly, but over that there’s a big, baggy sweater. It’s belted tight around his stick-straight hips with the fabric bulging either side to give the appearance of an hourglass figure. 

The sleeves are too long. He keeps pushing them up over his wrists. 

“Well?”

“You look nice.”

“It’s scratchy and sweltering,” Hux complains. “But if it’s what gets you going…”

He snorts, and walks deeper into the room. He sits down on the couch, and waits to see what Hux will do.

There’s a pause, then the other man wanders over. He snaps fingers, and some mood music starts playing. It’s so ridiculously overblown that Kylo kind of laughs into his fist, and then meets Hux’s eyes. 

“What?”

“I did not expect my first time to be someone seducing me with their hands buried in sleeves to smooth jazz. You missed the candles, and the chocolates…”

“Critic,” Hux snaps, and drops to kneel astride his lap, his arms draping over his shoulders. “Besides. If I give you everything the first time… why would you want to try it again?”

“Such a poor opinion of yourself?”

“More your ability to keep up.”

“Says the blushing virgin.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Well, it’s true. Kylo has never really been that interested enough to do anything about it. And he wonders how many men would have resisted the allure of a fuck they didn’t need to chase jumping onto their dick? He doesn’t know. It’s not something that’s come up in every day conversation.

He’s sure people laugh at him for having a body slave, but they are idiots, anyway. 

The arms curl to shore him off, as Hux starts to dance in his lap. Subtle, at first. Swaying and light grinding, a belly touching belly, ass touching thigh. Kylo grabs his waist to feel the movements, guiding him where he needs him most. 

“You su—“

Kylo’s words are cut off by lips against his.

Except it isn’t sweeping and romantic. It isn’t sensual. It’s a sudden fear his nose is in Hux’s eye, and a squishy lip over firm teeth, and then they sort of pause and neither of them knows what they’re supposed to do next.

“Is that how kisses are supposed to feel?” Kylo asks, pulling a tiny bit back.

“You tell me,” Hux blusters, his hands dragging down over Kylo’s chest and going for his belt. 

Kylo grabs them, and holds them still. “One thing at a time. Get the kiss right, first.”

“We don’t have to kiss.”

“I want to.” He does.

Hux tilts his head, and then leans in again. Kylo lets him lead, feeling the slick-dry touch of lips pulling at his own. They keep it going for a while before a shock of tongue against his mouth has him gasping, pulling back in confusion. It does feel good, but it almost feels _too_ good. When Hux draws away, Kylo tastes his own lips in surprise. 

“Better?” the man asks.

Kylo nods. “Much.”

“So… now can I…?”

“Slowly.” He isn’t about to rush what he’s waited all this time for. “Do you even…?”

“They trained me, even if I didn’t do it,” Hux points out. “I know the principles for both genders.”

“Okay…”

“Probably part of the reason they didn’t want me around. Shame on the family, being such a degenerate, unless you can be given away.”

Kylo grabs one wrist as Hux’s other pulls his belt from the loops. “You’re not a degenerate.”

“Oh, but I am, and I don’t care.”

“You aren’t… and you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Kylo… do you want me to stop? Because guys who tell you that when you have hold of their balls are kind of weird.”

He does have hold of his balls. Which. Yep. They’re there. In his hand. Being pulled and twisted and twirled.

“…kay,” he strangles out.

“Think you can take this ridiculous sweater off me?”

He nods, and pulls at the belt around Hux’s waist. It clatters to the ground, and he lifts the chunky knit up and over his head. Hands leave his balls to go straight back down, and Kylo is left admiring that chest. 

His nipples perk under the pegs clamping them, a chain dragging between the two. Cautiously, Kylo ducks his head and finds it with teeth and lips, tugging lightly until he gets a moan of pleasure. The hands on his balls roll them expertly around, and Kylo is glad for the training, even if it freaks him out a little, too. There’s a thumb rubbing between the two balls, scratching up under his cock, and going to stroke him just below the shaft. Long, long, long strokes. 

Kylo is going to come if Hux isn’t careful, so he slaps his hand away.

“What?” He sounds _indignant_.

“Too much. Slower.”

“…oh.”

“What do you – uh – I mean – how do we decide…”

Hux snickers. “I don’t think you should take it up the ass on your first go.”

“I was being _polite_.”

“So was I.”

Why did he agree to have sex with… oh. He looks down and sees Hux has pulled his own cock out, and started jerking it between them. He’s much harsher with himself, and it makes his balls tighten to watch. 

“Y-you have to do that a lot in training?”

“No. Surprisingly, I knew this first.”

“…uh…”

Hux’s hands move, and then there’s two cocks. Pressed together. And a two hands around them, jerking them in unison. It’s hot. It’s stupidly hot. Kylo grabs Hux’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss that’s more moan than anything else, and he’s going to fucking come if he’s not careful.

He’d had so many wonderful images in his head of his first time. None of them very precise, but they didn’t involve a man sitting on his knees and beating their dicks like one fat wang. Kissing sloppily into the mouth of a man who had just been using a belt to turn a sweater into a fucking dress. Seriously. 

The music changes to something entirely inappropriate, and Kylo chokes in shock right as Hux beats him over the edge. He splatters between them to the dulcet sounds of _muzak_ , and that’s just par for the course. Hux follows a short moment after, and then sits back on his heels. 

Doesn’t he think it’s ridiculous?

Hux lifts his hand to lick the white traces from his palm and fingers, sucking the digits down to the knuckle and moaning.

His dick is empty, but it twitches all the same. 

“Now you’ve bust your nut, we can introduce you to your prostate,” Hux crows. “And mine.”

“…what?”

“Look. If I had to go through sex slave sex ed, you’re damn well going to appreciate my knowledge of your anatomy. I had a _lot_ of time to want someone to try this out on.”

“…so I’m just a convenient cock?”

Hux’s eyes drift lazily half-shut. “It looks like a nice cock. I can’t wait to sit on it.”

This is so not normal. Right? At least Hux is more pleased with his prowess at getting them off than disappointed with his quick-fire response. The edge is gone, but Hux is already leaping off to grab something, and crook his finger for Kylo to follow him to bed.

This is going to be a steep learning curve, isn’t it? At least he can put aside any worry that Hux doesn’t want it. Absolutely not. The man has an _attack plan_.

Kylo isn’t sure which of them is the slave any more, but he’s not leaving the room for the foreseeable.


End file.
